Darkness Incarnate
by Thelistenersfury
Summary: Darkness and murder, the Dark Brotherhood storyline plus eventual accidental world saving and fun misc quests, plus lots of original events It's gory and dark, but the whole thing is basically about murder, so what did you expect? The main characters are mine (Alanna and Volrina, as well as the aunt) but the rest belong to bethesda and so on and so forth.
1. Chapter 1 Preface

**_Author's note, I guess. I only uploaded this at the urging of a friend of mine, who seems to be enamoured with it. This is my story, and I'd rather let it speak for itself. Comments (especially critique) are greatly appreciated. I apologize in advance if I don't update as much as I should, but you should also know the best way to fix that is to get on my case about it, thus reminding me that this story exists. Now that that's out of the way, enjoy reading. Or don't, it's really up to you._**

**_Chapter 1:Preface_**

Growing up in the Imperial City's Waterfront District is tough. Growing up without a proper family to support is even harder, especially for a Dunmer.

My name is Alanna Maliirain, although I don't know my parents enough to know if I've earned the right to their family name. They left me behind when they left Cyrodiil for their native land, Morrowind. I was three, and utterly alone in the world, wandering the streets of the waterfront, when my "aunt" found me. An altmer woman, she took me into her shack after her own daughter died and her husband fled from implied responsibility.

The peasants that inhabit the outer reaches of the Heart of Cyrodiil, as it was called, were a close-nit community, so of course everyone knew everything about each other; I heard the whispers. "Why in the name of Akatosh would she take in an orphan? She barely has enough food for herself." Luckily, that same closeness meant that I had friends, well, one anyway, an imperial named Volrina Caro. Her pale skin and stark blue eyes made a splendid contrast with my red eyes and ashen complexion. We were quite the pair back then, running up and down the shores of Lake Rumare. She was always the meek one, and I was the one who had to save our asses when we got into trouble. And in the waterfront district, being in trouble with the law was unavoidable.

Most adult residents pledge their allegiance the Grey Fox, the elusive leader Thieves Guild, the almost mythic bunch of pickpockets and burglars. In return for their loyalty, the Guild protects them, and it's against Guild law to steal from the poor, especially those on the waterfront. That isn't to say we were completely safe, people who are bitter about failing to join the Guild because they weren't skilled enough sometimes take out their failures on the residents. One night when Volrina and I were 10 years old, we became the target of one such individual.

Even then we had already starting to hate being poor, hated having to sleep in one tiny room with our families. So, every night the weather was warm enough, my friend and I camped out under a tree outside my aunt's shack. It was a hot Last Seed night, so hot that we weren't even in our bedrolls, just lying on top of them. Volrina had been asleep for hours, but my eyes refused to close, so I looked at the stars above.

I smelled his torch before I saw him. I assumed he would pass by, like all the others, but his angry demeanor only intensified when he saw us.

"Come here you little imperial brat." He spat, rousing my friend from sleep. She gave off of a bone chilling scream. He then attempted to assault her, but was interrupted by an Imperial Legion guard.

"Stop. You violated the law. You can either come with me now or resist arrest. I'm hoping for the latter, child molesting scum."

"You imperial dog! You think you can kill me?" Drawing his sword in midair, the sleazy breton viciously attacked the officer. The blade went straight through his armor, piercing his heart. As he fell to his knees, the attacker, believing he had won, laughed in the kneeling guard's face, kicking him all the way to the ground. Foolish in victory, the last ditch effort swing of the guard's silver standard issue longsword sliced the scumbag's stomach open. The Breton cried out in shock, but would've lived if I hadn't taken up the fallen sword and finish the job. His blood ran over my hands as the blade slid out of the body, the splatter staining my front half.

Most children would feel repulsed by the act, but for some reason I felt happy, in control. For the first time in my life, I had the power to make it better. I felt a grin come over my face, it spread as far as it could go. I was so caught up in the moment that I'd forgotten entirely about Volrina. She was curled into a small ball on the ground, too scared to even watch the proceedings. I dropped the blade I was still clutching and laid my hand on her shoulder.

"Shush, everything is okay now. He's dead. Are you hurt?" She sat up then, slowly, and as she looked at me, her eyes widened with concern.

"I'm...I'm okay. But you… All that blood…"

"It isn't mine, I don't have a scratch on me." I gave her grin, and she almost smiled back.

"What happened here? Are you kids all right?" My next-door neighbor, a young Redguard named Armand, had heard the commotion. Although it was completely in self-defense, my aunt was incredibly chauvinistic, insisting that a girl should not be allowed to fight, or even touch a weapon. I was never allowed to camp out again, at least while she was home. She worked in the mines a little way east of the city more often than not. I cherished the time she was gone and soon came to dread her return.

We ate well for months after that event; it was determined by Armand that my family got all the loot from the two corpses. As much as I wanted to, was unable to keep the sword, but managed to hide one of the daggers from my aunt. It was made of iron, but I treasured it as if it were ruby. I would polish it every night after my aunt went to bed, and I would practice it with it every chance I got. I tried to train Volrina, but she would always insist that she was happy just watching me.

I quickly realized that I had scared everyone that night, and to ever be trusted again I would have to learn how to blend in. I stopped practicing in broad daylight, stopped smiling at distasteful jokes, and basically felt like I was covering up every part of who I was becoming. I longed for the peace of mind I'd had the night ended that Breton's life. I didn't want to admit it to myself even, but the way my mind kept replaying that night over and over again left me no choice. I wanted to do it again, and the urge was strong. I managed to keep it in check for three years before I was presented with a temptation I just couldn't refuse.

On the nights that Margarette, my aunt, was working, I taken to breaking into rich people's houses and stealing their gold while they were gone. I was saving money to leave the waterfront behind. I had always timed my escapades that no one was in the house at the time, but on this occasion when I broke to the upper lock into the bedroom, a person was asleep in her bed. I froze for a few minutes, unsure of what to do. I could just leave, try another house. That would have been the safest, and most morally righteous thing to do in this situation. I knew it was "wrong" to even think about what was currently going through my mind, but I had never put much stake in the rules of society. I realized that this was a chance to do what I wanted to do for years.

I locked the door behind me, drew my precious dagger, and crept up to my unsuspecting victim. It was an orc; her powerful shoulders rose and fell with every breath. I watched her breathe for a few moments, anticipating stopping them. Then, with a grin, I did what I had wanted to do for so long. I dragged my blade across her neck, the edge slicing through tendons as if they were butter. As she woke up in a desperate panic, I took a seat, and watched her moan in pain, laughing with pure joy at a desire fulfilled.

Most people in Cyrodiil enchanted their entire houses with an anti-thievery spell. When taken the items would admit a faint but unmistakable red glow. Stolen items cannot be sold to merchants; it would unleash the law dogs and anyone who tried to barter them. That's why, in my early forays into thievery, I'd only taken gold, as the metal resisted almost any sort of enchantment. Sometimes the spell would break when owner or the enchanter died, as was the case with this Orc's property. I couldn't carry all of it that first night; I was only a teenager, and very small for my age as well. Even the bosmer boy who sometimes visited the lakes shore to torture the mud crabs that crawled there was taller than me. I had tried to introduce myself once, but the rich kid had taken one look at my ashen skin and peasant clothes and spat. Looking to the impaled but still wriggling mud crab and back into my red eyes he spoke, his voice as menacing as he could make it.

"Tell anyone about this you piece of Dunmer trash, and will be you instead of it." I didn't tell him that I understood, or that I wasn't frightened. I just nodded in surrender; he wasn't worth my breath.

Back to the matter at hand, my first real kill; the unprovoked and merciless slaughter. The orc's heavy, expensive armor and the profit it gave me were the beginnings of my exploration career. With money I could travel, travel and have the equipment to defend myself adequately. And if I could travel, than I could kill without rousing suspicion, there were plenty of bandits strewn about. Once I gave in that first time, nothing else really mattered. Not my aunt's attempts to make a lady out of me; I couldn't even feel genuine emotion to Volrina, my supposed best friend. I didn't let anyone know this of course; it wasn't much of a stretch from what I had already been doing. I carried on like I was a normal girl, if a somewhat antisocial one. I still smiled, still made conversation with my aunt, and even sometimes went to church with them, although their gods provoked no loyalty inside me.

After my "incident", as my aunt had called it, with the Breton, she had made me actually try and pray and beg forgiveness from the Divine's. I actually had tried, but the second I approached the altar I felt as if a thousand shock spells were cast into my body, along with a serious feeling of being unwanted. I only just avoided the on looking priestesses knowledge of my excommunication. I told my aunt that I'd been forgiven, if only to hide better. I went on this way for years, "traveling" when my aunt was away; playing the respectable citizen when she was here.

In the spring of my seventeenth year, my aunt had been home for an entire month on account of a mine collapse. It had been driving me insane, I'd been waiting for my freedom, but instead there was her. Eventually the call came too strong to ignore, and my already splintering resolve cracked. I snuck into a neighbor's house, put a gag in his mouth, and relished as my blade cut into his flesh over and over and over. He tried to scream through his cloth, and his writhing only made me want more. Hours later when I finally let him die, it was only because I had to hurry back before my aunt woke up. It was as I walked in the door, my clothes dripping lake water from the swim I taken to clean the blood, and saw my aunt's peacefully sleeping face illuminated by the moonlight through the open door, that it fully dawned on me. If I was ever have a shot at happiness, my aunt would have to be eliminated.


	2. Chapter 2 Unforeseen Consequences

**_Chapter 2:Unforeseen Consequences_**

I began plotting that night, far too exhilarated to sleep. I lay on my bedroll with my eyes closed, not being able to settle on the location. The mine would be isolated and well away from the guard, which I thoroughly enjoyed, but the proximity of the other miners made likely that would not have much time alone with my dear aunt. And I wanted her to see. I wanted to see her face as I dropped my ever present charade and she realized what I was capable of.

There was also the possibility of inside our shack, although that would put a lot of scrutiny on me, something I wanted to avoid at all costs, especially with my incident seven years previously. I tossed and turned until around dawn, when a plan finally came to mind that satisfied all my needs.

The next day, I stood outside my house, and put on my leather armor and strapped my quiver to my back. I had as, far as aunt Margarette knew, not used a weapon since I was 10. I've mentioned before her attempts to civilize me, and her disdain for women who fought and drew blood, so I was expecting quite the reaction. I'd also done perhaps the only thing appearance wise that would outrage her more. Down on the shores of the placid lake, I had brought my dagger to my raven hair, cutting it short and slightly covering one side of my face. I enjoyed the effect immediately, it framed my face, making my red gaze look even fiercer than it already did. I took a deep breath before going inside and rested my hand on the dagger strapped to my waist, knowing that my life was about to change forever.

When I first opened the door and walked inside, Margarette didn't recognize me, and looked like she was about to warn off an intruder. Then her eyes narrowed, squinting like she couldn't believe what she was saying.

"Hello aunt Margarette!" I beamed, moving to sit beside her at the table. "We need to talk about a few things." I remarked as I crunched on an apple and put my booted feet on the table. She looked at me with complete bewilderment for a few seconds, then exploded, her face huffy.

"What Talos's name has gone into you Alanna?" She screeched, her voice raising so sharply I winced as it reached my ears.

"I have a confession to make, auntie. I'm not going to be the kind and proper lady you illogically wish me to be, considering we live in squalor and I'm no great beauty. I can't wait for a husband to come and take care of me, and even if I could, I wouldn't be happy doing it. I will take care of myself, and to that effect, I'm leaving. However, I care deeply for you, and couldn't stand it if you were to worry about me. So let me show you what I can do; I've been training myself for years, and I believe I'm ready for everything Cyrodiil has to offer."

"What exactly did you have in mind?" She asked me. I smiled internally, I had her on the hook now.

"Let me take you to a cave not far from here, and clear it out. This way you can see that I know how to handle myself." She sat in stunned silence, clearly thinking it over. I could tell that she would agree, but only because she thought I would fail. I could almost picture her thoughts, imagining coming to the rescue with her Altmer magic, saving the day and forcing me to stay with her.

"What about your beautiful hair? Why did you have to cut it?" She responded a lot more calmly than before, clearly assured of my failure.

"It might get in the way of my bowstring or be grabbed in combat." I saw her flinch at the mention of violence. "Please, I know you care for me, so please, love me enough to let me have a chance at happiness." That struck a visible chord on her heartstrings, which I then proceeded to play like a lute.

"I suppose, if the cave isn't too dangerous, that we could do this, if only to ease my nerves."

"Oh, yes, it's not very hard! A few rats, maybe a zombie or a goblin, it isn't like it's a vampire den or something like that. When can we go? Is the mine still closed?" I asked her pleadingly, eager to begin the next phase of my plan.

"If you put on some decent clothes." she began, glancing down at my leather. "And sit down to eat, we can go as soon as we finish lunch, providing it isn't too far away. I'd like to be home well before nightfall."

"You don't have to worry about that! Thank you, thank you so much! I can't tell you what this means to me!." I gushed like a schoolgirl, ignoring the internal disgust I felt at my playacting, knowing that I soon wouldn't have to act any longer, at least to her. It was a pain to change out of my armor, knowing that I would just be putting it back on later, but it was worth it. I ate my food as fast as I could, and then nearly went mad watching Margarette chew every bit of the stale bread and slightly moldy cheese. To resist the urge to attack her then and there, I focused on reattaching my armor, piece by piece, checking every single leather strap. I replaced my quiver, and settled my bow in its familiar place over my shoulder just as she finished eating. The second she stood up, I thrust her decrepit staff into her arms and hustled her out the door.

We set out for the cave I had chosen at a grudgingly slow pace. It would've been much faster if we had swam across lake like I wanted to, but Margarette didn't want to get her clothes wet. Instead we spent an extra hour going around the lake to the closest bridge, the one on the west side of the lake, then back around the shore all the way to the east. A journey that would take me thirty minutes by myself, took us a full three hours.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" She asked me when we finally approached the waterlogged door. By this time I had already come close to ditching the plan and killing her on the road about seventeen times; nothing was going to stop me now. I handed her a water bottle with a concerned smile on my face.

"Sorry, auntie, I'm not backing out now. You must be thirsty after that walk, have some water." I let out an imperceptible side of relief when she took the water skin from my hands and the laced liquid spilled down her throat, and entered the cave.

Instead of the complex mazes and labyrinthine corridors that most of Cyrodiil's caves consisted of, this one was small, maybe fifty feet all around. That was not the only thing that set it apart from the rest. It was devoid of life, besides mine and my companion's. A square stone slab dominated the interior, like some arcane altar. When I'd found this place in my travels, I've been delighted to discover that it even had chains, and they had held up well against its resident necromancer.

Almost as soon as the cave door closed, the sleeping potion took effect, and I was able to drag my aunt's limp form to the slab. Half an hour later, my tools were set up, and her eyes were beginning to flicker with consciousness.

"… Alanna? What…..Uh….What's going on?" She groaned.

"Something that has been a very long time coming." I said to her, dropping any hint of pretense from my face for the first time ever. "My dearest aunt. Today you will meet me for the first time. Not the facade I've shown every day for the past seven years, but the pure, unabridged Alanna Maliirain."

"What in the name of Arkay are you talking about?" Her voice rose in panic, and she began struggling against her bindings. "Let me at this instant! Just stop whatever it is you're planning to do, let's forget this whole thing!"

"Oh, but there isn't a chance in Oblivion that I will stop; you have no idea how long I've wanted to do this for." I replied with a grin, my voice slightly shaking in anticipation.

"What is it you plan to do here?" She had grown, calm, the hysterics slipping from her voice.

"Since I am very eager, and I don't have much patience for narrative, I will be blunt. To this day, I have murdered thirty-six people in cold blood. The man who attacked Volrina that night when I was a child does not count in that tally, and neither do you, yet." I relished the moment as her eyes widened with fear and sudden realization, drinking it in. "I'm going to kill you now, but not right away. It will be slow. Painful. By the time I'm done with you, dear auntie, you will be begging for the end. You will wish that you'd have left me on the streets all those years ago. I'm going to make you scream, for the exquisite shivers it will give my very soul, for all the times you held me back, for every time you made me go to the chapel of your gods, and for your crappy shack on the Waterfront. This will be the most fun I've had in ages, thanks to you following me into the middle of nowhere; I have no need to quell your cries with a gag." I brought my dagger to her hand, and with a little effort I dug out one of her fingernails, just to give her a taste of what was to come. Between her glorious, anguish filled wails she managed to choke out one word.

"Why?"

That gave me a little, curious pause. I was doing this for fun, that much was certain. I was doing it for the way it made me feel. But why did I feel this way? I certainly never met someone else who did, even though it would be interesting. What made me different from everyone else in Tamriel? I didn't know the answer that question, so put it out of my mind, deciding not to dwell on it.

"Because it makes me feel, and it feels amazing." I attempted to give my aunt an answer. "It feels better than you could possibly imagine."

"What happened to you? What happened to the bright and happy girl who sat by me in the chapel only a week ago? The girl who whispered prayers under her breath when she thought no one else could hear?" She was crying now, great big pathetic pools were welling up in her eyes.

"That girl was a lie. Every move was part of an elaborate plan to look respectable, to waylay suspicion. Your gods are not my own. I pray to no deity. I'm going to start in earnest now, if you care about my happiness at all please, struggle, scream, don't give in." I spat at her, my voice full of menace and anticipation. "If you don't fight, it isn't as much fun."

By the time the torches I'd set up had burned low, all that remained of my aunt was a mutilated shell. I had removed all her minor extremities one by one, counting aloud to myself as I went. I had then moved on to the limbs at whole, cauterizing the edges with a spell like I'd seen the healers do to stop blood flow; letting her live was the farthest thing from my intention, but if she bled out I couldn't play with her anymore. I then set to work on her yellow skin, slowly peeling off neat 2 inch strips, something that I had always wanted to try but had never before been given the opportunity. She died with half the flesh hanging off her bones.

Later on that night I slipped into the only real bed in the house, knowing it now belonged completely to me. I replayed the afternoon over in my mind, determined to remember every detail, before slipping, satisfied into the deepest sleep I've had to date.

Not long after that night, an Imperial Legion guard came investigating my aunt's disappearance. After questioning me, believing my lies, and the suicide note I'd forged, he seemed like he was heading back to the watchtower to report his superior before going about his daily life. Instead he saw Volrina passing by and decided that she was worth dominating. It was common for her to have to fend off advances made by men. She was "gifted" with almost otherworldly beautiful features, and her passive and gentle temperament made her seem even more vulnerable than she really was. If I was in her position, I'd almost rather contract a horrible, face scarring disease.

It was lucky that I was still standing on the porch, and was able to see the look in the guard's eyes. It was a look that I knew well, the look of a hunter chasing prey. I just watched for a while as he talked to her, but the second he laid his hands on her arm I was there, slamming him roughly that up against the city wall.

"Back away, now, before I'm forced to get violent." There was fear in his eyes at my words, that hardened into resolve.

"Filthy Dark Elf, you're under arrest for assault. And you, Imperial, for attempting to pick my pocket." Angrily I drew my blade and threw myself at him, severing the arteries on his throat before he could even react. Volrina curled up in a ball as I turned to face the hordes of guards coming to their comrades' aid. I would have fought viciously to my death, and I managed to dispatch three of them, but three other metal plated morons grabbed me and held me down, before dragging me all the way to a cell and the prison district. I saw them shove Volrina's unconscious body into the cell adjacent to me. I screamed in rage at the retreating figures, vainly trying to break through the cell door.

"Hello again, I knew I'd be seeing you here soon." My old "friend" from the first time I was thrown in prison, Valen Dreth, greeted me. "Your kind never stays away long. What are you in for this time?" He asked scathingly.

"Dreth, I will rip your head from your neck if you don't shut up and tell me if she's alright." I spat.

"Well which is it? Shut up or talk?" I growled at him. "You mean the pretty blonde girl? She isn't moving, apart from her breath."

"To Oblivion with this!" I sighed and set to work on picking the lock with the pick I'd smuggled in. In a matter of seconds it was open.

"Hey! I'm sorry for what I said, let me out, please! Don't leave me here!" I ignored the begging elf, and tried to open Volrina's cage. The pick snapped and left me with a metal splinter and no way of getting my friend out. I heard noise coming down the corridor, and I had no choice but to leave her. I slipped out through the door at the top of the winding staircase. There was one man snoozing behind the counter but in six steps I was out the door and home free. They hadn't had time to change my clothes to prison rags, so I held my head high and used my best fake smile to stroll out of the prison district, right under the noses of about twenty of the city's finest.

After I crossed the bridge, I climbed on the cliff face and drop to the water without a splash. I swam to the shore by my shack and rose, dripping, from the water. There were no guards in sight, so I opened the door, locking it behind me. I changed out of the sopping, course woven skirt I wore while I was home and into my armor. I put some bread, a couple potions, and all the gold I had into a satchel, picked up my quiver and put my bow on my shoulder. I left the house and approached the great walls of the city. I circled them until I reached the bridge leaving the island to the east. I headed north slightly off the main road and just walked.

Night began to fall, and I was exhausted after my ordeal, so when I saw the Roxy Inn I ducked inside the doorway. I paid the innkeeper for my room and was soon asleep.


	3. Chapter 3 Covenant

I woke as an unnatural chill descended on my skin. I lay still listening. At first I could only hear my own breathing, then a creak and muted metal sounds. I heard the air rush from the warm room to the colder hallway as my door was unlocked and opened. In the weak light I saw a shadow enter, as quickly as a snake the dinner knife off the bedside table was at its throat. A laugh rose from the hooded figure.

"I've been watching you for a quite some time, and you sleep rather soundly for a murderer. That's good. You'll need a clear conscience for what I'm about to propose."

"Who are you, and why did you break into my room?" I responded calmly and firmly, without lowering my blade.

"I am Lucien Lachance, a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood. And you, you are a killer. A taker of life. A harvester of souls. Your work, your deathcraft, pleases the Night Mother. And so, I come to you with an offering. An opportunity... to join our rather unique family." Intrigued, I lowered my blade, closed the door, and gestured to the chair placed near the bed. I sat down and spoke.

"Go on, I'm listening."

"Then heed my words, for I will not repeat them." His melodrama made me chuckle a little. "On the Green Road to the north of Bravil lies the Inn of Ill Omen."

"I know of it." I had spent the night there a few times

"There you will find a man named Rufio." He continued, looking slightly miffed at my interruption "Kill him, and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete. Do this, and the next time you sleep in a location I deem secure, I will reveal myself once more, bearing the love of your new family."

"First tell me, what is the Dark Brotherhood?"

"Have you not heard of the Dark Brotherhood? Of the remorseless guild of paid assassins and homicidal cutthroats? Join us, and you'll find the Dark Brotherhood to be all that, and so much more. We are, more than anything, a union of like-minded individuals. We kill for profit, for enjoyment, and for the glory of the Dread Father, Sithis. We are family, with bonds forged in blood and death." I'm sure my eyes were lighting up at his words, it sounded like a dream, being paid and respected for what I do best.

"Rufio is as good as dead."

"Excellent!" He was positively grinning. "Now please, accept this token from the Dark Brotherhood. It is a virgin blade, and thirsts for blood. May it serve your endeavors well." He handed me an ornate black metallic blade inlaid with gold accents. "It's called the Blade of Woe." I gasped at it; it was the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen.

"Thank you, it's beautiful. Can you tell me anything else about Rufio?"

"Know that he is old and weak, and sleeps his days away. You could kill him before he even has a chance to wake if you so choose." With that he vanished, right before my eyes. The door opened, as if of its own volition, and I was left staring at the empty door frame. With an exasperated sigh -he could've at least shut the door- I got up and closed for him, then settled back down on the thin mattress. It was still black as pitch outside, so I intended to go back to sleep, but Lucien had given me too much to think about, and hadn't stay long enough to answer my questions. My mind kept replaying what he'd said about "like-minded individuals". I was extremely eager to meet them, but I knew I needed rest, so I did what I always did to quiet my mind. I went over my past kills in my mind, with every memory I got closer to sleep, until I finally passed the veil as my aunt died, yet again.

A very annoying bird woke me up the next morning. Because of the summer heat, I'd left the window open. It was sitting right on the sill, chirping for all its worth. I fumbled sleepily for my bow, and without getting up notched an arrow and sent it straight through its tiny body. When I was more awake, I wish I hadn't, because my supply of arrows was running low. I had started to pack, when my eyes lighted on the Blade Of Woe, and last night's visit came flooding back to my mind. My concentration focused on one thing. Rufio. I hastened my packing, and slipped out the open window, not wanting to deal with the innkeeper.

"The Dark Brotherhood, huh?" I thought to myself as I walked south down the cobbled road. Soon the flat stones gave way to hard dirt as I put the Imperial City farther behind me. I passed several guards on horseback, but since they let me continue unhindered I assumed that I didn't have a bounty. At about midday, the trees parted and the sights, and smell, of Bravil greeted me. Dammit, I must have walked straight past the Inn, so absorbed inside of my own head.

About midday, I turned at the right time, and walked in the doors of the Inn of Ill Omen. I approached the counter, intending to buy a pint in order to not seem suspicious while I searched for my prey, when the friendly innkeeper gave me everything I needed to know in one sentence.

"Welcome to the Inn of Ill Omen, we always have a room available. The only person who stays here is Rufio downstairs."

"Who's he?" I asked, with false but convincing nonchalance.

"This old man, spends all his time downstairs in what I call the private quarters. You can go see him if you want, but don't expect warm welcome. The way he acts you would think he was being hunted by someone."

"No thanks." I replied. "My curiosity doesn't go that far."

"Suit yourself. Now then, what'll it be?"

"I'd like a room for the night, if you please." I laid out ten septims on the rough wooden surface.

"It's all yours. Upstairs third room on the right, let me know if you need anything else." Smiling broadly, I went up the stairs, wincing at every creak –that was going to be a nuisance- located my room, and drew the bolt behind me. I set my pack down and leaned my bow and accompanying quiver against the chair. I tried busying myself with inspecting every piece of equipment I had, but that was finished quickly, and there was still far too much time left before night fell and the occupants of the Inn went to sleep. I was eager to begin, but the daylight and the importance of the kill screamed at me, ordering patience. I succumbed, I never killed during the daytime anyway if I could help it. For some reason the sun didn't do the same thing the moons did for me.

With that settled to myself, I still had hours left to go with only a copy of Bravil's guidebook to read. After two paragraphs my eyes wandered to the hilt my new blade; it was sticking out of my pack. I fished out and as I was holding it, for the first time I realized that the dagger had carried for seven years was gone, most likely logged into evidence somewhere. Its loss gave me a slight twinge in my chest, a very unexpected and unfamiliar sensation that soon disappeared. I belted the ornate ebony dagger in its new place. It seemed fitting somehow, a new blade for a new chapter in my life. Although I would miss the cold iron, certainly not the life I'd had. Thinking practically, I probably should have replaced it years ago.

After what felt like an eternity, Masser and Secunda finally took their place in the obsidian sky. As if it could sense my intent, the larger of the two was emitting a blood red light. Casting my detect life spell, one of the only ones I bothered with, I saw two gleaming shapes of purple light, both stretched out horizontally, and when neither moved for several agonizing minutes, I knew it was time.

There's no way I would've been able to make it down the ancient staircase without a creak, so I climbed out the side of the window and reentered the building through the front door. The Nord innkeeper was snoring lightly on the bedroll behind the counter. Moving on the balls of my feet, I crept close enough to smell him. Regretting that the business nature of this kill prevented me from fully enjoying myself, I quickly slit his throat. He tried to scream, but it only came out as a harmless gurgle. I chuckled as I watched him thrash valiantly, but all too soon he grew still. Sighing I moved on the balls of my feet, raising the trapdoor in the corner and carefully descending the ladder. I landed lightly in a hallway. There were two doors, but Rufio's light only shone behind one. With hardly a touch of my picks the tumblers clicked into place and I open the door silently.

Lucien hadn't been kidding when he'd called Rufio old and feeble. The old breton was so thin it was a wonder that he was still alive. I almost wanted to check for a pulse, and probably would have if it wasn't for the rattling breaths his unconscious body was laboring to produce.

Since I'd already taken care of the innkeeper, and there was nobody else in the Inn, I decided have a little fun with him first. Not much, mind you, this was business after all, but I couldn't resist. I carefully climbed the bed frame, balancing on the posts, then jumped onto the mattress, sending the old man three feet up and scaring him more than half to death. The look on his face was priceless as his head spun around comically, then abruptly stopped when he spotted me. Granted I was laughing maniacally, but still, he couldn't even see my eyes so I wasn't quite sure what he was so afraid of; to the world I looked more than harmless. Whatever the source of his terror, it caused him to bolt from the room, much faster than I believed possible on his weakened limbs. He had made it almost halfway up the exit ladder before I easily reached him and pulled him off it. It turned out his legs were as weak as I'd suspected, because when he landed, there was a resounding crack as his femur snapped and he plummeted quickly to the ground. I looked down at his moaning figure.

"Thank you, Rufio. That was most diverting! I've never chased one of my victims before." He whimpered at the word, and then asked the same clichéd question they always do.

"Why?" He could hardly get the word out.

"For once, I actually have an answer to that question. You see, Rufio, the Dark Brotherhood has come, I'm not technically in yet, but after I take your life I will be, you are my initiation you see."

"Oh, please no! I can pay you! Name your price! Anything please, I didn't mean to do it, you understand me? She struggled! I… I told her to stay still but she wouldn't listen! I had no – –" Growing bored with his tirade, I violently cut off his words at his Adam's apple, and was very pleased with how easily my new blade accomplished its task, so pleased that I also stabbed it into his hardly beating heart, and shivered with pleasure as it finally stopped, and he fell to a crumpled heap at my feet.

Usually I like to take a seat and just relax for a while after kill, but this time was different, so I skipped that part of my routine. I was about to leave, but out of the corner of my eye I noticed a lock on the other door. It was one of the most complex I'd ever seen. I knew that if I didn't see what was behind it I would never be able to forget. I was on my last lock pick when I forced the final tumbler into place. my post kill bliss dissolved and I spat on the ground venomously when I discovered nothing more valuable than a bottle of cheap wine. I kicked Rufio's corpse out of the way and climbed up the ladder. I'd left my things under my window, and as soon as I had retrieved them, I was moving past the Inn, mostly Southeast.. When I was far enough away, I began clearing the patch tall grass in front of me of any rocks or other various surprises. Finding nothing, I made myself as comfortable as possible and went to sleep under the light of the moons.

XXX

Volrina woke and strained to see in the dim light the high window provided. She was in a small, filthy, cell, and what little of herself she could see made her dry retch. She was covered in blood, the collective dried mess was more than a person could lose and still live. She tried desperately to remember, and as soon as she did, she wished she hadn't.

Alanna. It had been her, there the second she had begun to feel frightened of the guard. The expression on her friend's face reminded Volrina of that night, where she had again protected her. It was alive, and utterly terrifying. She had smiled as her dagger had moved with blinding speed into the guards neck, a smile so genuine that it made Volrina realize that the ones she had seen over the years and had thought were real, were only pale imitations. The last thing she remembered before the blinding pain and blackness was Alanna moving between guards with uncanny speed and masterful skill, clearly enjoying herself.

Then, Volrina did throw up.


	4. Chapter 4 Hunter's Run

**_Chapter Four: Hunter's Run_**

The next morning I was disappointed to realize that I woke, not to an unnatural chill, but to suffocatingly hot and humid weather. I had known the possibility that the Speaker would consider the wilderness "secure" enough was minimum, so I tried to put my disappointment out of my mind. The first thing to do, I thought to myself as I moved into a copse of trees, is to get out of the sun. For a dunmer, I was really not good with heat. There was also a pungent smell, and looking down at myself I quickly realized that I was covered with blood from the night before. I wasn't too concerned with it as I made my way back to the road, if anyone questioned me, I could just claim bandit. What did concern me however, was the sudden burning pain in my stomach as I realized with irritation that I had done it again.

When I'm extremely focused on something, I can completely forget to do the little things, like eating. One time when my aunt was away, I had been so consumed with working on my knife skills that I didn't sleep for three days. The only reason I'd stopped was Volrina's mothering intervention. It had been nearly that long since the measly bit of bread I'd munched on back the Roxy Inn, so with new-found urgency I quickened my pace toward Bravil and the feast I was going to buy myself. Before I reached the gate, I ducked into a clump of bushes to remove my armor in favor of my scratchy white linen dress. I hated the thing, but it was the only other clothing I had, and when dealing with people, appearances are everything. Before I moved on I use the Blade of Woe's reflective surface clean the blood off my face. With a sigh I continued on towards the city.

Bravil reminded me of home, although there was no Thieves Guild protecting the peasants here. The poor of the city were left to fend for themselves, while their homes decayed around them and their count did nothing to stop it. Still grimacing from the pain in my stomach, I stopped at the closest Inn, Silverhome on the Water, rather than go all the way across the city to the Lonely Suitor Lodge, my favorite of the two Inns.

The altmer proprietor called out to me almost as soon as I closed the door behind me. "We have beds and food, what's your pleasure?" He asked cheerfully.

"I will require both, most immediately, food." He grinned at the prospect of a paying customer

"Did you have anything specific in mind?" He asked with an indulgent smile. A short time later I was sitting at a table in the corner of the room, waiting for my food to be cooked to my rather exacting specifications. I was in a good mood, the minor annoyance of the empty room had faded back to my usual cool apathy. Bouts of intense but fleeting rage where common with me, so common that I was used to it. My internal musing was interrupted by the returning altmer, whose name he cheerfully told me, was Gligonderon, with my eagerly awaited meal.

It was a thick venison steak, red and oozing juice. However clichéd it may be, I liked meat, and I liked it rare. After taking a bite, I was pleasantly surprised at how perfectly it was cooked.

"It's not as, pardon my pun, rare a request as you might believe. " Gligonderon, who had been lurking, most likely waiting for my approval and an accompanying tip, explained. "I hear from some of my breton customers that it's all the rage back in High Rock." When it was clear he wasn't going to leave without a tip, handed him a few septims. People remember bad tippers; they also remember good ones. I keep mine strictly in the in between range. He smiled broadly at the coin, and then finally left me to my meal and the company of my thoughts. Just the way I preferred. I was glad there was no one else in the dining room at this hour, somewhere after breakfast but before the sun had risen high enough for lunch.

When I had devoured the steak and bread and my stomach had stopped complaining, I grabbed my empty plate and dropped it off at the counter. "Now, about a room." The owner was only too happy to hand me a key and directions. I winced slightly at the creak my feet made on the stairs, but put it out of my mind as I found the room he had specified. I didn't stay long, just enough to drop my pack off, and I was back into the streets of Bravil, intent on supplying myself for my new vocation. Above all other things, this meant poisons. Before now I haven't seen much of a use for them personally, but I could think of several situations, enough that I felt I would be remiss if I had none.

Following a rumor, I made my way along the side of the canal, and through the rotting door the Mages Guild. I dodged the argonian at the front, and curved along to a small room in the back of the building. The room smelled strongly enough to banish all traces of the canal from inside my nostrils; it wasn't unpleasant, but the mixture of a thousand ingredients was a bit intense. There was a dunmer behind the counter, so focused on whatever make sure he was working on that he had completely failed to notice me. If there was one thing I learned about mages from my dearly departed aunt, it was that they did not like being interrupted by anyone when they were working on whatever project that had currently captured their interests. Although I didn't care about his feelings, I wanted him to like me, at least enough to sell highly illegal weapons of death. So I waited quietly in the doorway, intending to stay there until he either finished or noticed my presence.

It was lucky, I thought as the alchemist turn to glare at me when I accidentally shifted my way into the doorway loudly, that I was a dunmer as well. I noticed that most of my own race seemed to respond eagerly to any female with red eyes that they came across.

"What in Azura's name do you want?" He spat, but I could tell his tone was softer than he was used to.

"I heard you were the one to ask if I wanted the strongest alchemy south of the Imperial City."

"You just happened to have heard true; what can I get for you this afternoon?" Ego appeal and flattery, a tactic that can never go wrong with a mage. I moved closer to the desk and laid my hands on the desk, leaning in closer so as not to be overheard.

"I need poison. Highly effective, as strong as you have." He stiffened almost imperceptibly at my request. "Also, a paralytic that doesn't have anesthetic effects, if you have it." The alchemist regained his composure quickly, and reaching under the counter, he brought out a large wooden box that gave off a muffled tinkly sound when it was jostled. He opened it dramatically, and revealed a multitude of glass vials. He ran his hands across them, and with practiced ease found what he was looking for.

"This bottle has an extremely concentrated nightshade extract, with a dash of the most poisonous substance known to man or mer, jarrin root, imported from Stros M'kai, an island off the coast of Hammerfell. A few drops of this in a wound or ingested, and someone won't be living long enough to say what it feels like. As an added bonus, it's completely untraceable." I nodded appreciatively, although I almost wanted to applaud his morbid performance.

"For your other request." He paused for a second, rummaging through the box. "May I recommend this. I call it Interrogator's Duress. This cunning mixture completely paralyses it's taker for four hours per three drop dose. It also over-sensitizes the nerve endings to better augment information extraction and prohibits the taker from blacking out. Unfortunately no one has been able to get the facial muscles to stiffen, but that usually suits the people that I sell this to just fine." Nearly drooling, I laid out all but a few septims, and had enough for a large bottle of both. I started to wrap them up in cloth, but the alchemist stopped me.

"The bottles are spelled, completely unbreakable, so no need to worry about that. Also, don't get the nightshade on your skin, or it will leave a nasty burn." I guess he really liked me, and my coin, I thought as I stored the bottles in my bag.

"One more thing, does the nightshade one have a name?" I asked.

"I call it Mephala's Gift." I smiled at that, even if I don't worship the Tribunal as is traditional for dunmer, I'd always thought Mephala seemed alright. As I turned to walk out the door, he called after me. "Thank you, please come again for all your alchemical needs!" I gave him a slight wave behind my back, like I'd seen the society ladies in the Imperial City do to their suitors, and headed out of the guild.

The sun was still shining brightly up in the sky, not that much past noon, so I decided to walk around the city, just to kill time before my next meeting with the speaker. For the next hour I played the tourist, going to all of the city's sorry excuses for attractions. Since there was a crowd around it, I even kissed the Lucky Old Lady statue near the entrance to the city, just to add to the role. I didn't feel luckier, but immediately after doing so a strange sensation came over me, like a soft call to my darkness. It was oddly pleasant and comforting, but as suddenly as it came it was gone. My spine settled and I walked on, putting it out of my mind; I didn't put stock in random feelings as a matter of principle.

Once I had done everything there was to do in Bravil, I went back to my room. I had only spent three minutes there before I was chased out again by the late afternoon heat that had turned the interior of the wooden walls into an inferno. I made my way out of the city, and turned left as soon as I crossed the bridge and leapt down a few rocks to the shore of the Locius River. As far as I could see the beaches were packed with people trying to escape the heat. Well, that was out I thought to myself as I went back to the city. I wandered the filthy streets, without a single idea where to go. Every patch of shade was filled, so all that was left was covered in blinding rays of sun.

Eventually I ended up near the Lucky Old Lady. With nothing else to do, I tried to kiss it again, hoping for a repeat performance of the strange feeling. There was nothing, and feeling slightly disappointed I started moving away, debating whether I could somehow use magic to cool my room without drawing attention. I was musing over the logistics when an irritating voice broke through.

"I'm sorry to impose upon you like this, but I'm in need of assistance, and I don't know what to do. my husband, Aleron, is missing." A middle age breton woman stood before me, her face giving off waves of fear and worry. She was desperate, interesting.

"What is going on?" I asked, forcing my voice to sound kindly and sweet.

"It all started when Aleron became foolish, and started gambling. He'd visit the arena every week and spend our hard earned money on bets. I told him to stop, but he didn't listen. He was certain he could win us a fortune and move us somewhere nicer, like the Imperial City. It didn't take long for Aleron to begin losing. He resorted to borrowing money from a usurer to cover his losses and place new bets. As you can imagine, it didn't pay off. He ended up owing around 500 gold. We could never have that kind of money to pay back the usurer." I nodded sympathetically at the woman, who was so distraught she was hardly able to speak."Yesterday, the usurer, Kurdan gro-Dragol, sent for my husband to meet him at the Lonely Suitor Lodge. He hasn't returned since. I fear for his life. Kurdan isn't known for his patience. Please, I'm not wealthy, but I'd give anything to see Aleron again." I thought for a moment. It's not like I had anything better to do, and putting someone in debt to you is always useful.

"Very well, I'll do what I can." I told her with another disarming smile.

"You... you will? Oh thank you! Please be careful, I don't wish any harm to befall you either. You're the first person who has actually stopped to listen. Thank you." I nodded again, and stiffened when she hugged me briefly, desperately resisting the urge to stab her with my new blade, before peeling her dirty form off me and heading in the direction of the Lonely Suitor. Once across the canal bridge I ducked into the door. Coming from the bright light outside, I was slightly blinded by the sudden dimness, but in a second my eyes adjusted and I scanned the area for the usurer. There were no orcs on the bottom floor, and unless one of the pathetic drunks at the counter had been adopted by some, Kurdan was not on the ground floor. No one noticed my entrance, so I made my way up the stairs.

On the second floor I saw him, armoured up the wazoo, and big, even for an orc. There was no way I would be able to move his paralyzed body to a more private place like I'd vaguely planned, so I began a new strategy. I walked up to him, hitting him full in the face with a wave of magic, meant to make him like me. I smiled sweetly again, though with his stench it was difficult.

"Are you Kurdan gro-Dragol?" I asked.

"I am, and you are?" He was smiling too, and I refrained from rolling my eyes at his weak mind.

"I'm here on behalf of Aleron Loche." I continued smiling.

"Maybe I know him, maybe I don't. But since you're so interested, l know somethin' that could jar my memory." He grunted and slurred his words, typical orc...

"And just what would that be?" I pressed, beginning to get irritated.

"I just learned that a family heirloom, the Axe of Dragol, which one of my stupid relatives lost, is located on Fort Grief Island in Niben Bay. My informant tells me it's hidden in the main keep at the center. Dunno what's guardn' it, but I'm sure you can handle it. If you go there and bring it back to me, I'll tell you exactly where Aleron is." I sighed, and considered pressing harder, but felt my hasty charm magic faltering.

"Fine then."

"I'll have a boat waitin' for you to get to Fort Grief Island. It'll be docked next to the magic shop' Now get outta my sight." The last of my magic was gone, so, resigned to a treasure hunt that was more than likely a trap, I went back to my room, grabbing my equipment and changing back into my leather.

I arrived at the boat, which was piloted by a somber man who didn't speak, just motioned to me to sit. I sat, and we moved through the filthy water in silence. Soon it cleared up some, as we got further away from the city's refuse and into the bay proper. A little bit later. he docked at an island and waved at me to get out. he grabbed a straw hat from under his seat, settled it over his face, apparently expecting a wait. I approached the fort's walls, in ruins, but still formidable enough to bar passage. There was a gate, but no keyhole. I pulled briefly on the metal, but it was obviously not going to be opened by force. I looked around, and my eyes traced a small handle, almost imperceptible from the surrounding stone. I turned it, and with a clank the gate opened. 'Really Kurdon?' I thought as a moved through it, counting to three in my head. As if on cue, the gate slammed shut behind me.

The center of the fort was covered in blood, and the patches of grass that managed to grow were hindered by fallen stones and fallen corpses. Some stank a little, but most were past that stage of decomposition. Nearer to the center, a middle aged breton was standing, looking utterly depressed, stripped of hope.

"Aleron I presume?" I asked as I came up to him. He nodded dejectedly. "I'm here to rescue you, your wife sent me." At the mention of her his face perked up slightly, but was quickly downtrodden again.

"You haven't guessed it yet? There never was any Axe of Dragol. It was just a ruse to lure you out here." No shit. "I fell for the same trick. In my case, he told me if I retrieved the axe, he'd erase my debts. I was such an idiot to believe him." No arguments there."You're now the prey in Kurdan's insane hunt, just like I am. And here, we'll most likely die." By the end of his speech he was almost crying.

"What hunt?" I was slightly curious now, maybe this would be some fun after all.

"Kurdan doesn't make most of his money being a simple usurer. He also invented what he calls the Hunter's Run. People pay him a great deal of money to hunt and kill living human prey. No questions asked, and he takes care of the bodies. He uses the dungeons under Fort Grief as the hunting grounds. I was placed here because he knew someone would go looking for me. I'm sorry you got mixed up in all of this. I hope you can fight. It's our only chance of escaping alive." Now I was interested.

"If this is a game, how do I win?"

"The only way to get out is by descending into the Hunter's Run and killing the Hunters. One of them will have the key to the door. That's Kurdan's rules. It's the only way we can win. I wish l could help more, but I can't fight. I've never held a weapon before in my life. Please...get us out of here!" I drew my bow and walked through the interior door of the fort.

"Kurdan is treacherous... be wary, friend." He called behind my back.

As soon as I entered, there was a gate to the left. This one had a keyhole, but it was one of those annoying spelled locks; only the proper key would work, no matter the skill of the lockpicker, any picks would instantly break on insertion. Through the bars I saw a large handle, no doubt the gate control.

Shrugging, I moved deeper into the fort, the farther away I got from the door the darker it became, which suited me perfectly. At home in the shadows, I muttered almost silently, casting my life detection spell. Three person shaped blobs. A few scattered smaller shapes, probably rats. With nothing surprising, I moved forward silently passing an arrow trap and ducking under. I dispatched a group of rats, and took a few more turns before I found the first hunter.

He was leaning against a pillar, and his sword was still in its sheath. Deciding not to risk sneaking up in front of him, I notched an arrow, and sent it unceremoniously into his right eye. The force of the longbow at short range drove the arrow deep into his brain, and he slumped down. Death came almost instantly. A quick search revealed a key in his satchel, plus a few gold coins. I pocketed both, and moved deeper.

The trail twisted down, the close walls opening up to a bridge over an eerily lit pool of water. I crossed, glad there was no one to sneak around in the light. More corridors, I jumped over a hole in the floor, careful to not make a sound on landing. The ancient stone might have carried the noise to oblivion knows where. I didn't even need to see the purple blob of the next hunter to know I was close, the mouth breathing cretin made such a racket I mentally tsked at him.

I peeked around the corner. He was facing the other way, focused on threats from deeper within the maze, his mistake. I silently slung the bow along my shoulders, and drew the Blade of Woe, glad of a chance to use it. I moved closer, every step exact. When close enough, I grabbed his mouth with my left hand and dragged the blade across his throat with the other. He fell, blood spurting out, and convulsed on the ground for a few brief moments, and then was still. The key was in his pants pocket, as was a rotten piece of sausage. I gingerly grabbed it, and wiped the sausage bits off on a relatively clean patch of his expensive shirt and continued on.

The next set of rooms had rats, as well as gas spewing traps. I easily stepped over the tripwires, and passed by without harm. The rats died when I shot the wires behind me. I spent a moment watching with interest as they choked to death. So that's what the gas did.

The last hunter was in a large, cavernous room, and he may have been the biggest idiot of them all. He wasn't even hugging the wall, instead preferring to stand in the middle like an oversized target dummy. I prepared to simply shoot him, but paused when I remembered the poisons I'd recently acquired. After a moment of deliberation between the two, I went with Mephala's Gift. Careful to not waste any, I coated the tip of my next arrow from the vial. I secured it at my waist, then took a breath as I drew the arrow back. Because of the size of the chamber, it was a fairly long distance between my target and I, but it was a solid bow, and since there was no wind, I easily sent it into his calf muscle. I quickly moved closer, eager to see the result. He turned to face me, but that was as far as he got before crumpling to the ground. The alchemist wasn't exaggerating, I noted with satisfaction; it was damn effective.

The last key was in a much cleaner pocket than the last, and I retrieved it without issue. The look on the corpse's face wasn't even shock; it seems there hadn't been time for that. If anything it showed mild confusion. I recast Detect life to be sure there wasn't anything else to kill. Finding nothing, I made my way back to the locked gate.

I didn't really expect any of the keys to work, it didn't make sense for Kurdan to leave a way to escape, and sure enough every one broke as I fit them into the lock. Without much else to do, I left the dungeon, intending to regroup with Aleron. I blinked in the daylight for a few moments, then sighed as I watched Kurdon slam through Aleron's thin body with a massive iron claymore, slicing him nearly in half. The breton gave half a cry before he fell, dead.

"That was very rude you know, he was my paycheck." I strode up to the orc, who was breathing heavily, both from exertion and the thrill of death.

"I'm impressed that you killed all my clients. Doesn't matter. more will come along with their purses fat with gold and hearts lustin' for blood. Too bad about Aleron. Didn't need him anymore now that yer here. At least now he's free of his debt... ha ha ha hal" I didn't laugh when he did, choosing to keep my face blank.

"I don't suppose you'll let me go?" I asked nonchalantly, without expecting a positive answer. "I did beat your game after all." I let the broken key pieces fall to the grass.

" 'Fraid not. You were right about one thing though...This IS my game, and I'm changin' the rules!" He attacked then, but so slowly I avoided with a step to the side. I let him try that a few more times, laughing the whole time and moving out of range without effort. "Stand still or draw your blade!" he roared at me, chest heaving; it was obvious he didn't use the sword much. and had no endurance built up. I sighed, bored, and gave an exaggerated yawn. Again he attacked with a roar, and again I wasn't where he expected.

"As you wish." I said icily as I drew my dagger, letting the sound ring as metal scraped metal. Kurdan cleaved at me, and I rolled under his guard and stabbed him to the hilt in the belly button. He roared again, but this time from pain, and almost dropped his sword. "Come on, that the best you can do?" I called out mockingly. he started to attack again, but I rolled to the side, and sent my blade into the right kidney. He froze in place, as suddenly as paralysis magic. "It seems it is, shame." I stabbed the blade through his heart, and I felt as it stopped beating.

I looked at my dagger curiously. There was no blood, as if it had absorbed it all. I gave it a slight chuckle and fitted it into its sheath. Searching his pockets, I found some gold and what I hoped was the real gate key. Luckily it was; I had not relished the idea of digging under the outer gate. The handle turned easily, and I was free.

My solemn gondolier had not remained, so I began to swim, and soon reached the other side of the bay about a mile from Bravil. The sun was low to the ground, but the heat still lingered, and soon I was glad of my wet hair as I walked along the shore. My armor was stiff for a few minutes, but the enchantment had already started to kick in, and by the time I reached the city both my hair and my clothes were dry. The wife was not in the area around the Lady statue any longer, so with a inquiry to a small bosmer in a green tunic standing around, I located her home. I knocked, and finding the door slightly ajar, entered.

Blood. I smelled it as soon as the door opened, the heat making it all the stronger. Blood, pooling around the wrists of the lady crumpled on the floor, a bloodstained parchment clutched in her hand, too much blood to read the words. I left without disturbing the scene, and went to find a guard. I'd been seen asking about her, and I judged it better to appear to give full disclosure. He asked me politely to accompany him to the house, and promptly threw up. As he regained his composure, he told me it was okay to leave, and I retreated back to the inn. Back in my room, hopefully for the last time that day, I changed once again into the silly white dress and folded up my armor carefully. I lay down on the bed, and although the sun had set, I knew sleep would not come, not for a few hours yet. There was a knock on my door, and Gligonderon announced himself.

"Come in." I said, sitting up. The door opened and he entered, carrying a tray of food. Extremely confused, I just looked at him for longer than I probably should have. "But I didn't order anything." I finally managed.

"Oh poor dear, it's my treat, after what you saw today, I didn't know if you could eat, so I also brought soup. it's the least I can do." My brain got the last piece of the puzzle it needed to solve the problem. He had probably heard of me finding the body and assumed that I was traumatized. Slightly annoying, but it proved my acting skills were still on form, and got me a free meal, I almost chuckled, but caught myself and instead gave a sad smile, a very difficult expression to get right, and thanked the mer. He left, and I looked at the tray. It was another steak, and seeing no reason to wait, I tucked in. The soup was watery and bland, but again the meat was cooked perfectly. He'd also placed a very large goblet of wine on the tray, but I set that aside with the soup. I was not a fan of the intoxicating effects, let alone the taste. I placed the whole tray on the dresser, and lay back down. Shockingly, sleep came ahead of schedule, and I drifted into unconsciousness.

XXX

"So you're awake? For a human girl you're pretty, very pretty indeed." Volrina heard a nasally voice when she started moving again. She looked across the bars and was just barely able to make out a dirty shape in the cell opposing hers. "That friend of yours is vicious huh?" She shuddered at his words. "She tried to get you out you know, but her pick broke, and she left you here all alone. Lucky for her she'll never have to see the hurt expression on your face." He sneered at her; Volrina did not like him at all.

"What do you mean?" Her words were so soft they were almost inaudible.

"I mean you're going to die down here, no doubt about it." He laughed at her then, a cold and humorless sound that chilled her more than the dankness of the cell. She pulled the dingy blanket around her tighter, and tried to ignore the elf, who continued mocking her as she curled up on her bed of hay.

Suddenly his tirade stopped, cut off by a clatter approaching from down the corridor. A harsh female voice was booming orders, and a softer, deeper one was backing them up. The conversation died off as they reached the front of Volrina's cell.

"What's this prisoner doing here? This cell is supposed to be off limits." The female voice belonged to a powerful looking woman, covered in heavy armor and a no nonsense bearing. Two men in almost identical armor were beside her.

The usual mix up with the watch I assume." A redguard said, confirming himself as the owner of the deeper voice. They opened the cell door and filed in.

"Alright prisoner, stay back, over there by the window, and don't make trouble." An imperial with a voice that hadn't spoken before demanded, and Volrina scurried backward as they moved into the cell, followed by an old man in an elaborate, dark purple robe. Volrina had never seen its like. He looked tired to the bone, and beyond sad, as if he had no happiness left. Something about him made Volrina want to help, to make him feel better. He looked at her, and it seemed as if he looked straight down to her core.

"You ... I've seen you ... Let me see your face... You are the one from my dreams... Then the stars were right, and this is the day. Gods give me strength." He breathed deeply, motioning her to approach.

"Who are you?" Volrina asked him.

" I am your emperor, Uriel Septim. By the grace of the Gods, I serve Tamriel as her ruler. You are a citizen of Tamriel, and you, too, shall serve her in your own way." Volrina was aghast; the emperor in her prison cell?

"Assassins attacked my sons, and I'm next. My Blades are leading me out of the city along a secret escape route. By chance, the entrance to that escape route leads through your cell." While they were talking, the woman was fiddling with the wall to the right, near where the stone slab that functioned as a bed was. With the growling sound of stone rubbing against stone, it started lowering into the floor, and the wall behind it opened to reveal a passage.

"We'd better leave this open, there's no way to open it from the other side." The woman said.

"Looks like it's your lucky day prisoner, just stay out of our way. I won't hesitate to kill you if you threaten the emperor in any way." The party moved through the passage, and after a few moments of hesitation, Volrina followed.


	5. Chapter 5 Welcome to the Family

**_Chapter Five: Welcome to the Family_**

I smiled when I woke; the chill was back. I got up, and took one of the chairs at the small table. When the door opened , I inclined my head graciously to the empty doorframe, and Speaker Lachance materialized and gave a polite bow. I gestured to the chair, and he sat down.

"The innkeeper brought me some wine earlier, you can have it if you wish, I have no use for it."

"That is most gracious, but neither do I." He settled back in his chair. "So, the deed is done. How do I know this? You will find that the Dark Brotherhood knows a great many things. For you are now part of the family. The slaying of Rufio was the signing of a covenant. The manner of execution, your signature. Rufio's blood, the ink. Although, out of professional curiosity, I would like to ask why you also eliminated the innkeeper?"

"Witness. I was being through." Lucien nodded, smiled, and continued.

"As a Speaker of the Black Hand, I directly oversee a particular group of family members. You will join that group, and fulfill any contracts given. You must now go to the city of Cheydinhal, to the abandoned house near the eastern wall. Enter the basement, and attempt to open the black door. You will be asked a question. Answer thusly: "Sanguine, my Brother." You will gain entrance to the Sanctuary. We must now take our leave of each other, you and I, for there is much work to be done. I'll be following... your progress. Welcome to the family."

"Have a nice night, or is it morning?" He bowed again, and left, this time closing the door behind him after going invisible. My eyes were still heavy from sleep, and so, without much difficulty I was able to slip past the border between reality and dreams.

I was jarred back into consciousness by a powerful but considerate knock on my door. "Miss? I'm Private Stevenson." I froze, getting ready to bolt, when he continued. "I've been instructed to ask you to accompany me to the castle steward, a matter of a last will and testament for one Ursanne Loche." I relaxed when I recognized the last name of the guy I was supposed to have saved, and straightened my clothes.

"Yes, one moment please." I smiled at him as I opened the door. He nodded professionally, and I closed the door once more, hiding my dagger in the folds of my dress and putting on my boots. I exited, and he gallantly offered his arm. I mentally mocked him, but played the part, taking his arm with my left and trying not to squirm at his closeness. We walked down the stairs and through the city, eventually coming through the gate into the castle gardens. Even if the rest of the city was squalor, the luxurious interior was not. Even the scent of the canal was masked by the blossoming flowers. The guards stationed at the entrance opened the heavy doors, and the castle steward met us just inside. Stevenson dropped my arm, gave me a curt military head bow, and left with a perfect about face. I resisted the urge to snicker and turned to face the kajiit.

"If you'll follow to my office please." She said formally. When we reached it she sat down behind her desk with a sigh, obviously overworked. With the count being the way rumors said he was, I was surprised she had time for me at all. I sat down in the chair opposite and gave her a few polite moments, although I was beginning to get bored and impatient. Soon, she straightened up, and spoke with the common growling kajiit tone.

"Now, I've brought you here today in circumstances that are, unusual to say the least. I'm aware of one version of events, but I would like you to give your account of your affiliation with the Loche family." She settled further into her chair, as if expecting this to be a long tale.

"I was wandering around the statue of the Lucky Old Lady, and Mrs. Loche came up to me, asking for assistance in finding her husband, Aleron. I accepted, followed her lead on the man Aleron was in debt to, Kurdan gro-Dragol. He said that if I went to an old fort ruin to retrieve an axe his family had lost, he would return Aleron." I told her the rest of the story, trying to brush over my fighting competency. She nodded at times, asked questions at others. After I gave my recount of the tale, ne nodded once more.

"So, you have no idea what happened to Mrs. Loche?"

"Well, her wrists were slashed, and done well enough that if it wasn't suicide the person has experience in those matters." I said.

"And you have experience in these matters?" She asked shrewdly, obviously a cut above the average intelligence most people possessed.

"I grew up in the Waterfront of the Imperial City, mam, that sort of thing happens a lot.." I said, dropping my tone to world-weary. She seemed to accept this after a moment's consideration.

"Alright then, your story matches up with what her suicide note said, and the handwriting matched. It appears the will is genuine, very well." She stood then, heaving herself off the chair, then grabbed a piece of paper and a key from the top of her desk and handed them over to me. I looked at her confused. "According to her note, you are the sole beneficiary of all of Ursanne's property, which includes her home and everything in it."

"She doesn't have anyone else?" I asked with false modesty and genuine confusion.

"She specified you, as 'the only person to care enough to help', in her words." I stifled a laugh at that, but tilted my head seriously. "This however is on condition of an investigation of the site of Fort Grief. If there are any serious deviations from your story, we will meet again. Now, if you can spell your name for me right here you'll be free to go." I signed her paper quickly, and hurried away before she could change her mind and call the guards. I stopped in my room to change and grab my belongings, and was soon sneaking around the back of the stables outside the city, intent on stealing a horse.

The trick to horse thievery, was to distract the owner, since horsemasters tended watch over their merchandise quite thoroughly. This one was no different, and I contemplated about what to do about the annoying blubber sack sitting in a chair with a clear view of the paddock. I focused, and with a great deal of effort that left me heaving, I manifested the image of a large cow, dressed in a pink noble's dress, and had it walk towards the city gates with loud moo's. As predicted, the blubber sack was so focused on the spectacle that I was able to hop on a tan mare and ride undetected down the road. The illusion had taken a lot out of me, and as I guided the beast to Cheydinhal I leaned forward, trying to rest a bit and stop my heaving breaths.

After that the rest of the journey was easy. I rode the mare hard, spurring her when she faltered. As a result it was a few hours after midday when I crested the last hill on the Blue Road and the walls of Cheydinhal came into view. I dismounted from the frothing mare, and with a slight prick of my dagger she sprinted off in the direction of home. The guards at the gate let me in without issue, and I followed the dirt road through the picturesque city.

I had always liked Cheydinhal, its clean river, the almost storybook houses, and the beggars hidden from view. My feet thudded softly over the rustic footbridge, and I passed by a drunken dunmer singing off tune about cliffracers, before finally approaching the clearly abandoned house. No one was looking, in fact, people seemed to outright avert their gazes from the structure. I casually strolled to the front door, that at first seemed covered by planks, but looking closer I realized that the planks had slits cut to allow passage. I stepped inside the dimly lit interior.

There were stairs leading up to a second, and perhaps third floor, judging by the height, and while I was tempted to explore, I was more eager to reach this sanctuary. With little effort, I located the basement steps, and descended. The room was bare, and nothing stood out, except for a large hole in the stone wall, leading to a passage that glowed with red light as I got closer to the black door that Lucien had obviously referred to. It was heavy stone, ancient, but it looked strong enough to repel armies. A beautiful mural was embossed on it, a woman holding a knife to five tiny skeletons, one held in her arms as if it were a child. In the clouds above her a giant skull was carved, looking over the proceedings, with a handprint in the middle of the forehead. I was still admiring it, when a voice sounded, as if from the skull.

"What, is the color, of night?" It was raspy and deep, yet somehow comforting and gentle.

"Sanguine, my brother." I spoke the password tentatively, hoping there wasn't some other ritual that the speaker had failed to mention. The door swung open at my words, and revealed a large, cheerily lit chamber, covered in banners with the same handprint symbol on the skull. I walked in curiously, and was approached by an argonian in a set of black leather armor.

"Greetings! Greetings! I am Ocheeva, mistress of this Sanctuary. Lucien has told me all about you, Alanna. Let me welcome you to the Dark Brotherhood!" She was warm and enthusiastic, and I didn't know quite what to say in response. "You stand in our sanctuary. May it serve as your new home, a place of comfort and security whenever the need arises. When you're ready for work, go and speak with Vicente Valtieri. He handles all assignments for the new family members. But before you go, please accept this gift from your new family. A unique set of armor, lighter than normal leather and black as the Void." She handed me the sack she had been carrying; I smiled at her, and it was genuine.

"Thank you. Where would he be?"

"Go straight across the main chamber, then follow the stairs down. Wait, I'll just get someone to show you around. Antionetta!" She called out, and her reptilian voice bounced off the stone surrounding us. She looked around as if waiting for someone. It wasn't long before footsteps were heard approaching quickly from the right. A bright looking breton girl a little older than me skipped up to us, her short blond hair flouncing like a noble's poufy dress.

"Yes Ocheeva?" Her eyes widened when she saw me. "Oh, it's her! She's younger than I thought she'd be! Hi, my name is Antionetta Marie, I'm sure we'll be the best of friends."

"Antionetta, I'd like you to show her around, make sure Gogron doesn't crush her."

"Yes Ocheeva, of course." The lizard retreated from view, and Antionetta grabbed my wrist and started pulling me off to the side. I allowed it, and moved off with her. On the left side of the chamber there was a heavy double door, with wood a foot thick and reinforced with metal. It creaked as she opened it, and as soon as she did, the sound of metal clanging forcefully against metal rang through the air. A huge orc, even by their standards, was pummeling a straw dummy held together by a chest plate with a wicked looking axe. He didn't look up from the thrashing, not until Antionetta yelled at him.

"Gorgon! The new sister is here! Stop beating up the straw for a minute and say hello!" The brute stopped and turned, and immediately his face grew into a big toothy grin.

"Welcome! Welcome to the family! I'd hug you, but Ocheeva told me not to, I'm not always in control of my strength you see." If said by someone else, that might have been taken as a threat, and he spoke the words with the practiced ease of a threat, but somehow I knew he was being completely earnest.

"It's true, Telaendril told me that he had this pet bunny as a kid, but smashed its head in on accident!" Antionetta gave a chortle, and the big orc looked stricken for a few moments, before laughing himself. It was a big, booming sound, one that reverberated against our surroundings, and I found myself chuckling along with them. It seems they shared my sense of humor at the very least.

"Oh good, you're fun! I was worried you might be another grumpy one when I heard how young you were when you first killed." That comment put me instantly on the defensive.

"How do you people know so much about me?" I spoke calmly, but with the intensity I had learned scared people half to death. The girl laughed even louder at my words, confusing me completely.

"Oh hun, you never have met anyone like you before have you? Intimation doesn't work on us, though for dealing with sheep that would be extremely effective. To answer your question, the Dark Brotherhood knows basically everything, the higher ups have both mystical and mortal sources, so no information is safe. Don't worry, we won't turn you over to the guards." I kept my face strictly neutral, though I was fascinated by these people.

"Wait, how old was she? Come on, you people never tell me anything!" Gogron boomed at me, and on a whim I told the truth.

"Killed at ten, murdered at thirteen." I let my voice reveal nothing. The orc whistled, and Antionetta looked startled.

"Really? They didn't say exactly how young. What made you do it?" She was entranced, clearly waiting for a story.

"First time I was protecting myself and a friend. The times after that? I wanted to." They weren't repulsed, in fact they were smiling.

"That'll do for now." Antionetta took my arm again and said playfully. "We have more people to meet, and things to see, but I expect the full story later. Bye Gogron, see you at dinner!" She pulled me along, this time across to the right side of where I had come in. There was an identical door, but instead of going through it, the girl turned left, and stopped in front of a cozy reading area where another argonian was settled in, reading a book. He looked up and gave a smile; it was obvious he was related to Ocheeva.

"Teinaava, this is Alanna, the new girl. Alanna, Teinaava. " He nodded to me warmly.

"I welcome you to our family, and this Sanctuary. May you find yourself at home here, in the loving embrace of our Lady the Night Mother."

"Who is the Night Mother?" I asked, curious.

"That is a slightly lengthy tale, but I would be happy to teach you. In sort she is our matron, and guides the Brotherhood in everything we do. She is the voice of Sithis, but that is also a lengthy discussion. Antionetta here is not known for her patience, especially with sitting through lectures she already knows the content for. Come back to me later, dear Sister, and I will teach you." He seemed at once to be trying to be my friend, and my professor.

"Come on, this lizard is a real bore! There are other things to do!" the blond resumed pulling me forward like a dog on a leash, and although I was bristling, I allowed her to continue. We went through the door, and followed a winding staircase down. It opened into a smaller chamber than the main one, though it was still large enough to accommodate a cozy looking kitchen and a dining table with enough places to fit ten people. Like the rest of the sanctuary, it was lit by torches and candles, just enough to clearly see everything, but dim enough that it felt comforting.

"Hey, Antionetta, why doesn't it smell like smoke? I don't see any ventilation, yet the air is as clear as outside."

"Huh, I never noticed, Vicente will probably be the best person to ask. I've been here for a year, and the only time it's been smoky is when someone burns dinner." She laughed again, a highly melodious sound that bounced off the stone all around us. "Actually, that's usually me. Can you cook at all?"

"Uh, no. My idea of an adventurous culinary endeavor is putting cheese _on top_ of bread." Her laugher grew, and it was several moments before she regained the power of speech.

"You're funny, I like it." Then she hugged me, or tried to anyway.

I had been hugged before, Volrina had made sure of that, but it had been several years and a large amount of combat experience since the last time she had. Without thinking I flipped the backwards, drawing my blade to her neck.

"Oh, uh, sorry." I quickly sheathed it and pulled her back to her feet.

"That was excessive!" She tried to maintain a stern tone, but it kept fracturing at the edges and laughter seeped out. "You could have just told me not to."

"Yeah, reflex I think." I was pleased that I hadn't killed her accidently, which was uncommon enough that it turned me contemplative. I actually liked this girl. Huh.

"Some reflex! I'd love to see what you do to someone you don't like!" She spoke as if reading my mind. It was very disconcerting, yet oddly pleasant, like this whole day. "Anyway, the sleeping quarters are through here." She lead us through another door. It opened onto a symmetrical hallway with a door on each side.

"The right is us, left the boys'. And be thankful they're separate, you do not want to try and sleep while Gogron is snoring. He sounds like a troll that's on fire. We had to get M'raaj-Dar to magically soundproof it anyway. " The way she spoke claimed personal authority on the matter. We went into our side, which had only two beds inside, and they both were obviously occupied.

"We'll usually have this place to ourselves, the only other sister who stays here is Telaendril, and she scouts for Ocheeva most of the time she isn't on assignment. I'm sure your bed will be here by the end of the day, Lucien does a good job of taking care of those things.

"So, what do you know about tall, dark, and melodramatic?" I asked her. Her jovial face fell serious in an instant before she responded.

"I will always think of Lucien as my savior. When he found me, I was living in a gutter, an inch away from death. I owe him everything." It was clear she meant every word, but after only a few seconds she shook her head vigorously and her face grew cheerful once more. "Anyway, he is our sanctuary's Speaker. Basically he acts like the middleman between us and the rest of the Black Hand."

"The Black Hand?"

"Oh, they're the hush hush leaders. I don't know much about them really, none of us underlings do, which makes sense you know?" I nodded, a basic security move. If a new, untested recruit was captured, they couldn't tell what they didn't know, no matter what they were subjected to.

"You can just drop your stuff here, don't worry about anyone taking it; it's against one of our five big rules, and no bauble is worth crossing Sithis." There was that name again; I found myself looking forward to my lesson with Teinaava even more than I had been before. I set my pack down against the wall and piled my new armor on top of it.

"You're neat, crap." She gestured to a bed in the corner, which would have made an apt example of the antithesis of the word. "It bugs Telaendril too, she's always nagging me to clean up." She walked over to her corner and pointed to a box surrounding the bed that was scratched into the stone floor. "If I let my shit escape these lines it's the same as forfeiting it, so you're free to take it or burn it, your choice." She grinned at me, and I wasn't entirely sure if she was serious. "Anyway, this room is boring, we still have more to see."

We went back the way we came, and ended up at the far side of the large main chamber I'd first entered. It opened to another hallway, but this one was much larger than any of the others. We passed two doors completely, with Antionetta explaining that they were Ocheeva's private room, and a guest room for visiting brotherhood higher ups, most often used by Lucien. We followed a ninety degree angled set of stairs down and were confronted by a squinting kajiit leaning against the wall, his fur was raised and he emitted malice from his entire frame.

"If it isn't the newest member of the family. Let's get one thing straight - the Tenets prevent me from killing you. But I don't have to like you. I'll sell you equipment, and evaluate your no doubt pitiful magical ability, but only because Ocheeva is making me. This family doesn't need any... outsiders." His tone was harsh and unwelcoming, much more what I would have expected from an assassin than the rest of the family so far. Unlike the comradery of the others. I knew how to deal with hostility: affect a manner of complete self confidence and ease, peppering in strategic witty comments, until the other person explodes and gives you an acceptable reason to destroy them.

"Oh quit it M'raaj! Alanna is family now, whether you like it or not." Antionetta cut through our glaring match and poked the cat in the chest. I half expected him to attack right then, but to my surprise he deflated, turning around and sulked up the stairs, grumbling to himself until he was out of earshot.

"I apologize for him." A warm, well heeled voice made me turn around to face its owner, who was walking to us from further down the hallway. The man moved with more grace than I had ever seen, every minute movement exactingly placed, as if his whole being was attuned to the task of walking. As he got closer, my unasked question was answered. The man was a vampire, but he made all the ones I'd fought before look like indolent upstarts. He was ancient, although I wasn't sure how I knew that. He reached us and continued his greeting.

"M'raaj-Dar has a very soft heart you see, and cares for his family deeply, although he would be damned before voluntarily letting anyone see it. I am Vicente Valtieri. I provide assignments for all new family members. Please do not let my appearance unnerve you. The needs and Tenets of the Dark Brotherhood come before my own needs as a vampire." He bowed his head to me courteously, and smiled.

"I'm Alanna, though you probably already know that." He smiled again, to a somewhat grandfatherly effect.

"I do indeed, but no matter, come. I'm sure you have many questions. Antionetta, you're free. Our new sister appears to be the intellectual type, I'm afraid you would be terrible bored by her no doubt plentiful questions." His words would have seemed harsh if they were directed at anyone else, but the blond girl just smiled, waved, and told me dinner would be ready in a few hours before heading off. Vicente motioned down the hallway, and started off. We arrived in another room. Unlike the rest of the sanctuary, it was more cavern than room, with hard packed dirt floors and rough cut rock walls, as if the builders had run out of time to finish. To one side there where overstuffed bookshelves, with more books than I had ever seen in my life. There was also a desk made of sturdy wood, with a finish so dark it was almost black. More books rested on its surface, as well as on the table he directed me to. He didn't speak for several seconds, and I let my curiosity get the best of me.

"What are the Tenets?" I asked.

"The Five Tenets are the laws that guide and protect us, the will of Sithis himself, as passed on through the Night Mother. They are as follows: Tenet 1: Never dishonor the Night Mother. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. Tenet 2: Never betray the Dark Brotherhood or its secrets. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. Tenet 3: Never disobey or refuse to carry out an order from a Dark Brotherhood superior. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. Tenet 4: Never steal the possessions of a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. Tenet 5: Never kill a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis." He spoke the words exactingly, with the reverence of scripture, I listened patiently and committed them to memory; I could tell it was not a recitation that should be pettily interrupted. When he was finished, I asked my next question.

"Who, or maybe what, is Sithis?"

" Every Dark Brother and Sister is a child of Sithis. He whom we call Sithis has many other names. Chaos. Doom. Discord. Sithis is the Void. We of the Dark Brotherhood serve the Night Mother, who is the bride of Sithis. The Night Mother rules her children with a terrible Black Hand." More religious reverence. "And before you ask." He continued, breaking to a less formal tone. "The Black Hand is the ruling body of the Dark Brotherhood. It is made up of one Listener and Four Speakers. Four fingers and a thumb, if you will."

"Forgive me if this sounds incredibly rude, but does Sithis expect anything special of me?" He smiled again at my question, warmly and unsanctimoniously.

"Fear not, beyond following the Tenets, he requires only one thing, and it's something you enjoy. Killing. Simply murder and nothing more." Well, I thought to myself, finally a deity I could get behind. "Never be afraid to ask a question dear, I will answer all in my power. If there is something I can't tell you, I will say so, and give you an explanation if I can, but I will never lie."

I had never experienced anything like this, never been confronted by such complete openness. I didn't know how to answer him, so I sat quietly instead of bumbling for words.

"You're not used to any of this, are you? You've never been accepted or valued for who you truly are." I nodded at him, grateful he understood what I wasn't able to convey. "Unfortunately this is far more common than not. The majority of the world simply cannot understand, and thus brothers and sisters are fated to solitude and alienation until they find their way to where they belong."

That was it, the words for what I was feeling. I belonged here. I belonged as completely as if it were made for me. For as long as I could remember, I'd been alone. Even Volrina hadn't truly known me. It had never bothered me before, but I was beginning to think that was because I hadn't known how this felt. Wow, who knew emotions could be this nice.

"You are most likely feeling overwhelmed by this, so take the day. Get to know your family, or go for a walk by yourself. If you do leave, take care not to miss dinner. If I know Antionetta she is currently putting her all into a welcome feast for you, and she would be crushed if you missed it." I stood up slowly, and headed out the door. Before I left I turned back to him.

"Thank you." It was the first time I had meant those words completely, and not as a required social gesture. I decided to take his advice, and left the sanctuary and the city entirely.

XXX

Volrina followed the tense party down deeper into a set of ancient Aylied ruins, lit with their ethereal, sourceless blue light, abandoned long ago to all but the rats. They didn't get far before figures emerged from the shadows, screaming battle cries and casting armour conjuring spells. She felt their magic on her skin, dark and malevolent, nothing like the magic she'd encountered before; it gave her goosebumps. There were three of them, and each of the Emperor's guards faced them head on, brandishing swords.

"Stay behind me Sire!" The harsh female cried and she pressed forward. Volrina felt pathetic; she wanted to help them, but they were fighting in such close quarters with the assassins that she couldn't be sure she would hit the right targets if she tried a spell. She watched the battle for several seconds, before realizing what she had to do. Reaching out mentally, she squeamishly explored the magic, felt it struggle to stay in this world. She concentrated fiercely, and there was a sudden vacuum of power left behind as their armour retreated back to whatever plane of oblivion it had come from.

With the rival magic gone, the attackers started to fall like flies caught in a trap. The woman collapsed with the last one, blood flowing out of a wound to her neck. Volrina frantically started a healing spell, but knew it was too late; death was already set into the captain's body, rejecting the magic.

"Captain Renault?" The emperor's voice was shaky.

"She's dead. I'm sorry, Sire, but we have to keep moving." The redguard Blade responded sorrowfully, thrust into command by default. The emperor complied, sinking even farther into himself as he followed his two reaming blades further into the old ruin.

It wasn't long before the group reached a rusted metal gate. The imperial Blade brought a key out. He hadn't had the chance to open it when the other one moved in front of Volrina and stood firmly.

"You stay here prisoner, don't try to follow us." His voice was gentle, but left no doubt that he would protect his lord, no matter the cost. She was far too terrified to defy, and the gate slammed shut, locked, behind the retreating party, minus one member.

Alone, the panic that had been set near the edges of the campfire was suddenly thrust into the flames, pasta threatening to boil over. She paced the edge of the chamber, trying to figure out something to do. Should she go back to her cell and the abuse of her fellow prisoner? The thought made her shudder, and she was about to sit down on the ground, when the wall to her side suddenly exploded, and a pair of the meanest looking rats Volrina had ever seen burst through the weakened stone.

Reacting, not thinking, she felt power brimming up in her fingers as she readied the spell, reaching for full power. The air around her exploded into heat, and the monstrous vermin caught fire, fur and flesh and bone melted in seconds, leaving a charred, roasted meat smell behind. It should have made Volrina want to gag, but just made her mouth water; it had been a long time since she'd eaten. With great effort, she left their corpses alone and investigated the hole they had come through.

A dirt tunnel was just through the hole, rough and unrefined, but not small. There was plenty of room to move, and after a little break to catch her breath, Volrina followed it. The passage wound through a few curves, then opened up into a larger chamber, still with dirt floors, but the walls were a rough stone. Pillars had sprouted up like underground trees, supporting the weight of the ceiling and all that rested on it. Along the left side of the wall, a skeleton was spread out, covered only by rotting leather. The rest of the flesh had rotted away, leaving only pale, parchment coloured bone behind. She moved forward quickly, desperate not to look at the long decayed man.

The passage turned another corner, and Volrina nearly bumped into a goblin. Ugly as a festering wen, the clammy grey skin of the creature was covered with pitting and raised scar tissue. One thin, filthy piece of cloth was tied around its waist, his club the only other adornment it bore. It blinked its aquatic eyes at her several times, his brain not quite comprehending that there was a human in its lair. It brought the wooden club up, using the base to scratch his head, which seemed to tempt the needed synapses into firing. It gave a titanic roar, causing little bits of rotting mystery food to fly in her direction as they dislodged from its gnashing teeth.

Faster than the last time, Volrina had the spell ready and sent a fireball hurtling through the cave. It bounced off the hardened skin and dissipated, leaving an angry black scorch mark, and an even angrier goblin. It roared again, flailing its club around erratically. It seems that the fireball had done more damage than Volrina had initially thought, blinding its eyes, eyes so used to perpetual darkness. She used the chance, switching spells before the beast could recover. She paused momentarily, watching for her moment, before sending a shaft of pure ice through the gaping mouth as it opened for another war cry. The sound was cut short as the spike penetrated the creature's brain. It slumped like a boar's bladder come untied, all the air deflated. The wooden club hit the dirt with a muted thud, and Volrina collapsed with it, dry heaving the imaginary contents of her stomach.

The rats were one thing, but the goblin was almost a person, even if its limbs were warped and mutated. It made her feel horrible, and no amount of survivalist justification could stop the guilt. When her breathing, and her stomach, had settled enough, she got up off the ground and walked on. The walk turned to a jog, and then a run as she fled from what she had done.


End file.
